


Before I Die

by HarrehPottah196



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-01
Updated: 2013-01-25
Packaged: 2017-11-25 10:21:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/637869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HarrehPottah196/pseuds/HarrehPottah196
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Draco's P.O.V. with a little Drarry twist.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. First Year

**Author's Note:**

> I started this a while ago. There are more characters than mentioned. Each chapter is going to be a year in Draco's life and I may add an epilogue. I quoted some lines and didn't quote others, so it might sound stupid but bear with me. Kudos are appreciated. (:

"Mother, who was that boy in the robe shop? Do you know him?" eleven-year-old Draco Malfoy asked his mother after unknowingly meeting the Boy Who Lived in a robe shop.

She sighed. "Sorry, Draco, but I do not know who that boy is. You can probably ask him on the Hogwarts Express. You said he was going there this year, am I correct?"

His face brightened. "Yes! But, Mother... that's in like... a month or so! I don't wanna wait that long!" he exclaimed with a frown.

She looked sternly at him. "Well, I don't know where he is now, but you can always wait, Draco. Patience is a Malfoy virtue."

He frowned, but agreed to her statement.

The last couple of weeks before going off to Hogwarts for his first time was awfully boring for Draco. His father was always out with his "friends" and his mother would be fretting over something in her room or in the kitchen. All Draco could do to be entertained was to read, which he loved, or worry over whether or not he was going to be in Slytherin.

His parents always said that a Malfoy was never anything but a Slytherin, but what about his mother's cousin, Sirius Black? Wasn't he a Gryffindor? What if that rubbed off on Draco? He has been searching his family history without his parent's knowledge and found out that everyone in both of his parents' sides were Slytherin... Except that one Sirius Black, the one in Azkaban. Most of his family was actually either in Azkaban or serving this "Dark Lord." By his research, Draco knew that he did NOT want to serve that psychopath of a man.

"Oh, Draco! You're such a big boy now! Heading off to Hogwarts!" his mother dryly sobbed. Malfoys do not sob.

She gave him a big hug and a kiss on the cheek, leaving a mark he couldn't see there. His father stood next to her, and said, "Well done, Draco. You will be an excellent Slytherin."

At that, Draco paled a bit and nodded before saying his last goodbyes before heading onto the train, looking for Crabbe and Goyle. His father forced him to make friends with purebloods and purebloods only, save for the Boy Who Lived.

When he found them, they all went into an empty compartment and they put their stuff above their heads.

"Well," Draco said when he was satisfied, "let's go bother some people. Father always said that it's better to have an enemy who honestly says they hate you than to have a friend who's putting you down secretly. That in mind, let's go explore."

They went from compartment to compartment trying to find people to bother. They came across a certain one with the boy Draco met at the robe shop in. He stopped abruptly and said, "Let's go in this one."

He opened the compartment door and said, "Hello. I'm Malfoy. Draco Malfoy. I heard-" but he stopped when a red-head, obviously one of the Weasels, giggled. He shot daggers at the boy.

"What's so funny about my name? No need to ask yours. Red hair, freckles, hand-me-down clothes. You must be a Weasley," he sneered.

By Weasley's glare, he could tell his assumptions were correct. But the Weasel laughed again and said, "Coming from a mummy's boy."

Draco was confused. He knew mother didn't love him, if he were to use a term so weak.

The black-haired boy Draco met in the shop spoke up, "You have a lipstick mark on your cheek."

Draco's eyes widened and he wiped furiously at his cheek, making the Weasel laugh again. Draco sighed in frustration. Damn his mother's lipstick.

"Anyways," he continued after he regained his mask, "I heard that Harry Potter is on the train today, starting Hogwarts as well as I am."

The black-haired boy spoke, "Yeah, that would be me." He shrugged. Draco gaped for a split second, and then remembered that Malfoys do not gape, and closed his mouth.

"You must know the right type of people here. I can help you there, Potter," he said, extending his hand for Potter to grasp.

But Potter's hand stayed firmly still. "I think I can sort out my own type, thank you," he replied dryly.

"Fine, then, I-" he turned his head and realized that Crabbe and Goyle had ditched him. He rolled his eyes. "I'll be going now," he said, gaze never leaving the now empty hallway. He heard a snort and a meek, "Bye" as he left the two to their own business to find his "friends."

When he found Crabbe and Goyle, he was not surprised that they had ditched him for the candy cart coming by. Figures..

To be honest, Draco thought that Harry Potter would not have ugly glasses or messy hair. And be a bit more sensible. Honestly, a Weasel friend? He thought that the Boy Who Lived would be a perfect angel, considering his status. But, then again, he probably grew up with Muggles, not knowing his status, considering his lack of knowledge of the wizarding world at the robe shop. Oh well. Too bad for Potter, then. That's just something Draco can use to make fun of him.

"We will probably be getting there soon. Let's change into our robes now," Draco said as he noticed the train went noticeably slower. As he put on his robes, he felt nervousness in his stomach. Malfoys are not nervous, he kept telling himself. Malfoys are NOT nervous.

But he couldn't help but feel nervous when "Malfoy, Draco" was called. He couldn't show this nervousness, so he walked so confidently and arrogantly that no one, not even wise old Dumbledore, could tell it was fake. He sat down, and almost as soon as the Sorting Hat touched his head, it declared, "SLYTHERIN!" He grinned, hopped off the chair, and walked over to the cheering Slytherins, Crabbe and Goyle included, and sat down next to them.

He barely paid attention to the rest of the ceremony going on. He clapped when he heard the word "SLYTHERIN!" shouted by the Sorting Hat. Otherwise, he would drift into la-la land. Until the words, "Potter, Harry" were called. That grabbed his attention. He also heard other people, Crabbe and Goyle included, gasping and whispering. Draco didn't say a thing. He just watched Potter walk up to the hat so nervously Draco was getting nervous, himself.

If he was a Hufflepuff, he could still be Draco's friend later on. Right? No. Scratch that. A Ravenclaw? Pass. He couldn't have Potter smarter than him. Gryffindor? Hell no. He silently declared that if Potter was in Gryffindor, then Draco would shun him for the rest of his seven years at Hogwarts. But if he was a Slytherin... Oh, the possibilities! He could be best friends with him! Weasel would most likely be in Gryffindor with his millions of other siblings, Potter would be with Draco, and the world would be happy. Weasel would get jealous of him.

But as the hat shouted, "GRYFFINDOR!" and Potter walked over to the table with a gigantic grin on his face, Draco couldn't help but sneer at the boy.

As expected, "Weasley, Ronald" was in Gryffindor. He looked overly relieved at that. Why would anyone want to be a Gryffindork? Draco thought.

The last person to be called was a dark-skinned boy, "Zabini, Blaise." As the hat shouted "SLYTHERIN!" Draco grinned, thinking that this boy could be useful later on. For what, he had no clue.

His dorm mates, thankfully, ended up being the Zabini boy, Crabbe, Goyle, and "Nott, Theodore." He could always learn to control Zabini and Nott like Crabbe and Goyle, but he knew it would take a while longer for them. Crabbe and Goyle aren't the sharpest knives in the drawer.

"Hey, blondie!" Nott said, looking at Draco with a smile.

Draco scowled at the boy. "What?" he snapped. Nott just rolled his eyes.

"You really deserve to be in Slytherin. Anyways, your Lucius's son? My dad has talked to him for a while now," Nott said.

"If they are such good buddies, then why didn't we meet before now? I met Crabbe and Goyle when I was four," Draco pointed out smartly.

Nott only rolled his eyes again. "How in Merlin's name am I supposed to know my father's reasonings?" he questioned.

Draco gave it a bit of thought... What Nott said definately applied to himself. He just shrugged. "I don't know, maybe your father tells you things unlike mine?" Draco suggested.

Nott laughed, "If my father would tell me anything, I'd be about 1,000 Galleons short."

Draco grinned; he knew Nott would definately be of use just like Zabini. How, he still didn't know.

The next day the five Slytherin boys met up with "Bulstrode, Millicent," "Davis, Tracy," and Draco's feared Pansy Parkinson.

She has hung over him since they met, always initiating a crush on him, and him returning it. As if. So, when Parkinson squeezed him and squealed, "DRAKIE!! I MISSED YOU!" Draco cringed. "Yes, yes, I missed you, too, Pansy. Whatever. I'm hungry, let's go eat some food."

Nobody dared to object. One: they all were hungry as well. Two: Draco was now, in most of their minds, the ringleader, if you will, of this newfound Slytherin gang.

Draco couldn't be any more content with bossing all of his fellow Slytherins around. Like his father always said, "It is better to have people below you so you can be treated like royalty than to have people above you so they can step on your face."

They all ate, got their schedules, and headed off towards their classes.

He was excited and a bit nervous about learning how to ride a broom the next week. He has learned how to since he was about two, but he still couldn't shake the feeling off about his broom not working when he said, "UP!"

At the lessons, Potter was the first to get his broom up. Damn Gryffindor. Draco had already tried twice, but failed. He groaned angrily when Goyle got his up, and his failed to raise. He recollected his emotions and then said, with his eyes closed in consentration, "UP!" They snapped open when he felt the broom hit his palm, and he grinned victoriously.

But Longbottom's broom went out of control and Hooch had to take him away. She said something about not riding their brooms or something or another, but Draco wasn't paying attention. He grabbed the Remembrall Longbottom had dropped and grinned. When Hooch left, he saw the Mudblood, the Weasel, and Potter looking for it. Of course they were. Damn Gryffindors.

Draco attained their attention by saying, "Looking for this, Potter?" He saw Potter push through the people, but Draco stopped him with his words,

"Ah, ah, ah, Potter. You have to come get it first." And, with that, he soared up into the air and laughed like a Malfoy should; evilly.

He saw the Mudblood and Weasel try to stop Potter, but he said something and then kicked off somewhat unsteadily. Draco chuckled; this was going to be good.

He raced off again and watched Potter from behind. Crap. He was really picking up on this whole broom-riding thing. He was starting to go upwards when he felt Potter push him and knock the Remembrall out of his hands. He laughed; Potter will never be able to save it now. But, alas, he did. Of course he did! Damn Gryffindor.

Draco came down and dismounted his broom. He was so mad, he almost snapped the broom in half. Almost.

He saw McGonagall come over to them. He gulped. Of course it would be her to catch him. But, thankfully, she said, "Harry Potter, will you please come with me?"

Potter nodded and then slowly walked over to her, obviously terrified. She said, "Come on, Potter, I do not have all day to waste on your dilly-dallying around." He then picked up his pace as the Slytherins laughed at him. Draco thought that this day couldn't get any better.

Only until he heard he was called to join the Gryffindor Quidditch team as Seeker. The only one in a century. And what did Draco get? A week's worth of detentions with Filch. Now, how unfair was that, hmm? Damn Gryffindor.

The next match was a Gryffindor-Slytherin one, so Draco had an excuse to go watch Potter play. If he was going to be on a team, he better be worthy of one.

As the match started, Potter went up into the sky to search for the Snitch, obviously ignoring the Slytherin Seeker. Draco will have to fix that next year.

Within twenty minutes of the game, Potter accidentally caught the Snitch with his mouth. He almost swallowed it, but still got the points for it. Damn Gryffindor. Draco didn't even realize he was clapping for Potter until Parkinson jabbed his ribs, saying, "It was POTTER who caught the Snitch, dumbass!" He was royally embarassed and teased by his gang after that.

Halloween was close by. Draco always hated the holiday. He never found a purpose in it. As he sat glumly at the Slytherin table for the feast, he saw Potter and Weasley walk in. He wondered where Granger was.

Just then, Professor Quirrell ran in and screamed, "TROLL! TROLL IN THE DUNGEONS!" before fainting.

Dumbledore calmly stood up and announced that everyone go to their dorms. Fat lot of use that was for the Slytherins.

Draco saw both Potter and Weasley go towards the girl's bathroom. Draco suspected that Granger was in there, if their rush was anything to go by. Draco followed them.

When he saw the giant troll in the bathroom, he ran to his dorm. Gryffindors were brave. They could handle it. And indeed they did.

Soon enough, it was time for Christmas break back at the Manor with his boring parents. Oh well. At least he could get whatever he wanted then. All of the other Slytherins in his gang were also going off to their homes for the holidays. Most of them were going to visit Draco during the holidays. Draco couldn't have been more disappointed.

"So, Draco, what would you like for Christmas this year?" his mother asked.

"I would like to be friends with Harry Potter," Draco replied glumly.

His mother sighed. "Draco, listen, I cannot guarantee your friendship with the Potter boy. I know that neither your father nor me can make it possible. If you want to be friends with the Potter boy, then you must initiate something yourself. I do not think that your father would approve of the friendship, but he might. And, if he does, I don't think it'll be good. I'll explain it to you later, son, but, for now, all I can say is to try to keep your relationship with the Potter boy the same as it is now. Nothing less, but nothing more." She sighed again. "Anyways, what else would you like?"

Draco smirked, "Well, there is always that Nimbus 2001 coming out later..."

"Draco, go set the table. The guests will arrive shortly."

"Yes, Father," Draco replied. He never liked Christmas at the Manor. It was always, "Draco, do this," or "Draco, do that." People Draco never knew, but was always required to greet, gleefully crowded his house to eat his mother's cooking. He always thought that they looked scary, all in black and monotone faces. They always gave him a chill. Especially his aunt, Bellatrix.

Merlin, did he despise that woman. He almost always suffocated because of her giant breasts. Her breath was always a weird fragrance of peppermint and grass. At least it was better than that Greyback's breath that always smelled like blood.

Draco's always smelled like vanilla for some odd reason. It must be something else because he always brushes with spearmint toothpaste. But what else it could be, he didn't know. Potter always smelled like pine trees and flowers...

After Draco got done with everything, he dressed into his best, and most expensive, dress robes. They were black with just a hint of red and green. He always loved those two colors, even though red reminded him of Gryffindor. And Potter. Damn Gryffindor.

He slicked his hair back as usual. He always hated it like that, but his father said it looked better like that. Plus, it helped keep his hair in place. Whatever. One day, he'll unslick it. Maybe in a few years or so...

Draco, his father, and mother were all standing at the front doors to the Manor, waiting for the guests to come. This has always been a Malfoy tradition for as long as he knew. He always dreaded it, but, if he didn't do this, he was forced to wait another week until he could open his presents. No thanks. Greeting frightening people will have to do.

The first guests to arrive, as usual, were the Greengrass family. His father always told Draco he would marry Astoria, the younger sister, when he grew up. Draco wanted to marry whomever he wished, but his father apparently isn't up for that.

The next to arrive were the Crabbes and Goyles. Then the Lestranges. Then the Parkinsons. Then about twenty people Draco never learned, or wanted, to know. Then, lastly, the Notts. It was always the same order every year. Draco thinks that they plan it like this.

Once everybody was seated and set the presents by the tree, Lucius raised his glass for a toast. But not before giving a surprisingly ALMOST heartwarming speech.

"Greetings, everyone. My family and I are so glad to see so many familiar faces here at this great time of year. It is a blessing for us all to know such wonderful people and have such delicious food to eat this day. We all hope that you enjoy your time here and will visit again next year. Thank you all for coming, and Happy Christmas." He then raised his glass and everyone started clinking glasses together, then started to eat.

On Draco's right sat Nott, left sat Crabbe, and across from him sat Parkinson, Bulstrode, and Zabini. He felt a knife in his heart when he realized that Potter was probably with all of the blood-traiter Weasels for Christmas this year. Or otherwise alone at Hogwarts.

He chatted with his "friends," ate the truly delicious food his mother spent forever cooking, and chatted with the adults about his schooling at Hogwarts. All and all, it wasn't as bad as Draco remembered. Maybe it was because he always felt inferior to everyone before going to Hogwarts. He felt he was just a child. But not anymore.

After dinner, everyone opened their presents from youngest to oldest, meaning his younger cousins would go first and his grandparents go last. Draco got something amazing and expensive from everybody. Mostly books, though, considering Draco loved to read.

After presents, there was the last-minute chatter and then everyone started to leave at precicely eleven o'clock, meaning Draco had to get up and say goodnight to everyone.

The worst part of saying goodbye was when Pansy's lips touched Draco's cheek. His eyes widened in shock before he said a meek, "Goodbye," as she left.

He almost died from suffocation of his aunt's breasts again. He always hated hellos and goodbyes. He almost always thinks death is near, no matter who's saying hello or goodbye to him.

After the last person left and shut the door, all of the Malfoys sighed and collapsed on a nearby chair.

"Well, Lucius, I think that everyone enjoyed themselves tonight. Especially the Parkinson girl, eh, Draco?" Narcissa giggled like a schoolgirl.

Draco just groaned. Obviously, both of his parents got smashed. That means he has to get Dobby to get his breakfast ready in the morning. Not that Dobby would mind.

"Yes, I agree, Narcissa. I think that the Parkinson girl was enjoying the mere sight of Draco, though. I love how we never noticed this before. Draco, don't marry Parkinson. You're marrying the young Greengrass girl."

Draco sighed. "Yeah, whatever, Father. I'm going to bed now."

As he headed upstairs toward his room, he heard weird noises coming from where his parents were. He quietly snuck back and peeked through the doorway.

He saw his parents attacking each other with their mouths. Not that he hasn't seen worse, but he was still disgusted and must've made a sound, for they both stopped what they were doing and stared wide-eyed at Draco. Draco stared the same way back.

"Well, um, nevermind. Good-goodnight, then," Draco said, voice cracking. He closed the door and all but ran to his room. Malfoys don't run.

He unslicked his hair and changed into an old pair of pyjamas and stuck his slippers by his bed for the morning. He was still traumatized about seeing his parents sucking each other's mouths off. It reminded him of when he saw them using their tounges and being half-naked. That was traumatizing for sure. He wondered what they did when they accomplished the task of taking their clothes off. He had no clue whatsoever about that. Maybe they just liked to touch each other's skin. He didn't know.

He, thankfully, had no dreams that night. He didn't want to have to go through the scenes again.

When he woke up, he got out of bed, put his slippers on, and slipped down to the kitchens.

"Good morning, Dobby," he said. Dobby smiled at him.

"Good morning to you as well, Little Malfoy. What can Dobby get you to eat?"

"Just some toast and an orange juice, please."

"Okay, Little Malfoy, Dobby be on it!"

Draco chuckled softly. He always liked Dobby, even though his father thought house-elves were scum, just like Mudbloods. He should have thought the same about them, but he honestly couldn't. Dobby was like a little kitten to him. So, they chatted every once in a while when Lucius nor Narcissa were around.

"Here is your breakfast, Little Malfoy!" Dobby said with a smile.

Draco smiled back and left to eat in the dining room.

When his parents woke up, they looked like they haven't slept all night. Their hair was a mess and their clothes were on backwards. Draco laughed at them, but then he quieted, knowing that Malfoys do not laugh.

His father scowled at him. "Why are you up so damn early, Draco?"

Draco smirked. "It's one o'clock, Father."

"Shit," he gumbled.

So much for a family Christmas, then.

Boxing Day was nothing different than Christmas. All Draco did was use or put away his presents. His parents slept half of the time.

He was glad to go back to Hogwarts, even though it meant sulking over not being Potter's friend during the nighttime, which usually got him caught by Filch. Damn caretaker.

One night, about a week after his horrible and embarrassing detention in the Forbidden Forest, Draco heard quiet footsteps walking behing him. He was wandering around and assumed that they were a fellow first year's footsteps, so he went on unperturbed. But, as they became nearer to him, he still couldn't see anyone. Draco stopped in his tracks and looked around nervously.

"Who's there?" he said shakily. He was shocked when he saw Potter appear in front of him with a shimmer. An Invisibility Cloak. Of course Potter had one. Damn Gryffindor.

"What are you doing here, Potter?" he spat.

Potter smiled nervously. "Well, I wanted to give you something before I die tomorrow."

Draco furrowed his brows in confusion. "What do you mean before you..."

But, he was stupefied after Potter's lips had touched his cheek just like Parkinson's had at Christmastime.

He gasped and held his mouth open, not caring about his Malfoy dos and don'ts now. He couldn't close his mouth if he even tried, which he did.

Then, Potter disappeared with another whoosh of his Cloak. Damn Gryffindor.

He walked to bed shocked. His mother said that Parkinson liked him because she did that. Does that mean that Potter likes him, too? He hoped so. That means that they could become friends instead of having this petty rivalry.

But... Before he dies? He couldn't even help Potter if he were to die. Maybe Potter had to do something like give himself up to the Dark Lord. It could be possible, if the Dark Lord was alive now. But Draco had some hypotheses about the Dark Lord.

He knew that the Dark Lord had not completely fallen on the day Potter's parents died and Potter got the lightning bolt scar. He overheard his mother and father discussing it, so it had to be a fact. His father was, in fact, a follower of the Dark Lord. A "Death Eater" as most wizards say.

He knew that the Dark Lord would rise again. If his first hypothesis was correct, which he was very certain of, then this one will be inevitable. Then, it would be up to Potter to kill him because of some prophecy or another. Potter is always linked with the Dark Lord somehow. ALWAYS.

So, how could eleven-year-old Draco come up with these theories by himself? By research, of course. He didn't make these conclusions overnight. He had spent most of his life researching the Dark Lord and his followers, who were basically every person who came to the Manor for Christmas. That was yet another reason why he hated Christmas.

When he awoke, he remembered that Potter will probably be nowhere to be seen.

That morning, he heard that Potter was in the hospital. He was crestfallen. Potter's last thing to do before he died was to visit Draco and give him a sign of liking. Of course he did, the Gryffindor. Draco showed that he liked Potter as well by visiting him once when he was certain that nobody was at the hospital wing. He didn't know what to do or say, so he just mimicked what Potter did to him before he almost died.

When he went to the Great Hall a couple of days later for dinner and the House Cup ceremony, he was anxious. It was on a Sunday, so he stayed in his dorms until it was time to leave. He wanted to see Potter awake. Then everything would be okay.

But, as he looked at the Gryffindor table, he didn't see Potter's mop of black hair. He got nervous. Did Potter not get through?

Everyone quieted as Dumbledore stepped up to the podium. He started his speech,

"First off, I would like to point out a very brave thing done by one of our students. He defeated a disloyal professor who was attatched to Voldemort's soul and recovered the Philosopher's Stone, to put it simply." His eyes twinkled. "Therefore, I will award 60 points to Mr. Harry Potter for his courage."

Draco craned his neck to see Potter. Could he be alive? When he saw Potter, he stood and clapped along with the Gryffindors. He didn't realize he was the last one clapping until he heard only his claps echoing in the hall. He also felt Parkinson pull him down to his chair, anger evident on her face. He blushed as red as any Malfoy ever has in history. It got worse when everyone laughed, professors included. He shrunk into his seat.

Then everyone got quiet as Dumbledore spoke again, "Thank you, Mr. Malfoy. I don't even think the best Seer in the wizarding world could have ever predicted that." Everyone laughed again, and Draco sank further into his chair, his cheeks getting hotter by the second. Why was he such an idiot?

Dumbledore smiled at Draco, though, eyes twinkling. The corners of Draco's mouth twitched. Malfoy's don't smile.

"I would also like to award 50 points to Mr. Ronald Weasley for assissting Mr. Potter. And another 50 to Miss Hermione Granger, who helped them figure everything out."

The Gryffindor table erupted in cheers again, and Parkinson remarked, "Why not clap again, Drakie?" He just scowled at her.

"And, lastly, I would like to award Mr. Neville Longbottom 10 points for standing up to his friends and trying to do the right thing when it is difficult."

The Gryffindor table exploded with cheers.

"So, if my math is correct, Gryffindor has the most points now. So, I think this place is in order for a makeover." He waved his wand, and every Slytherin green and silver thing turned into Gryffindor red and gold. The Gryffindor table cheered again, and they congratulated the four who had acquired them the points to beat their rival house.

Surprisingly, Draco didn't mind this at all. All that mattered to him was that Potter was alive and liked him.

So, as the year came to an end, Draco was sitting by the Black Lake, observing everything around him. He felt someone sit next to him. It was Potter.

Draco sneered and said, "What do you want, Potter? Came to gloat about beating Slytherin? Or make fun of me?"

Potter sighed. "No. Actually, I came to talk. Not to brag or gloat, but to thank you."

Draco rolled his eyes. "What did I do that deserves your thanks, Potter? Nothing, that's what."

Potter looked at him in the eye as he said, "I thought that when you stood and clapped that you were truly happy for someone else. I'm correct, aren't I?"

"No, you see, I was just glad to-" Draco started, but Potter cut him off.

"See, you were glad. Happy, glad, same thing. That's all that matters. You were the only one from Slytherin to even clap at all. That's called bravery, Malfoy," Potter ended with a smile. Draco realized how green his eyes were. Damn Gryffindor.

"But-"

"Malfoy, listen, I think that everyone knew you were clapping because of no other reason than the kindness of your heart. Not to embarass yourself, of course. Maybe to make yourself remembered, but I think everyone forgot about that when you grinned."

"Potter, listen! First off, Malfoys have no kindness whatsoever. I thought you would have gotten that through that thick skull of yours by now, Potter. Second off, Malfoys definitely do not grin. Nor try to embarass themselves." He stood up. "Whatever, Potter. Just make sure you have it known that I was rais- I am nothing else other than a cold-hearted bastard. Good evening."

He then turned and walked away a bit angrily. He felt Potter's eyes on his back the whole time, but did not dare to look back. It would make him seem weak. Malfoys are not weak.

When he returned to the Manor, he was actually happy about it. Hopefully everyone would forget about that clapping incident by the next schoolyear.


	2. Second Year

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The story continues in Draco's second year at Hogwarts!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the short length, guys. -___-

Draco was so happy he was back at home. Until he got his letter listing his schoolbooks he has to buy. It reminded him that school was only in a few weeks. More torture for Draco.

During the week before school, Draco visited Knockturn Alley with his father. They sold some things, as his father said, and then went off to Diagon Alley's Flourish and Blotts to see Gilderoy Lockhart. Merlin knew that his mother had been dying to get a glimpse of him. Draco just huffed and started to look for his books for school, away from the people rushing to see Lockhart.

He spotted Potter with the Weasels and Granger. He glared daggers at them, but didn't make a move towards them. He decided that it wouldn't do him any good.

All of a sudden, the whole bookstore got quiet as Draco heard Lockhart say, "Is that the Harry Potter?"

Lockhart then pulled Potter from the crowd and started chatting to him and the cameramen. Potter obviously hated all of the attention he was getting. And, since Lockhart would have the pleasure of teaching Potter, he announced that he would take up the Defense Against the Dark Arts position this year at Hogwarts. Draco rolled his eyes; that's going to be good.

After Lockhart finally let Potter back into the crowd, Draco noticed that Potter was by the Weaslette. He started walking over to them.

"Famous Harry Potter get enough attention over there?" Draco snarled. Potter glared.

"I bet he loved getting all of that attention up there. Like he always does," Draco taunted. Potter started to get red with anger.

"Look, Harry never wanted any of that attention up there, Malfoy, so just leave him alone!" the Weaslette snapped.

Draco just rolled his eyes. He wasn't going to get down to her level. "Well, I'm just pointing out the obvious."

Draco's father came over. He glared at the Weaslette's couldron with books inside. He picked up a tattered old book from inside of it.

"I thought that you would have enough money now with your job that you could buy your kids decent supplies. But, apparently not," Draco's father bit out.

Mr. Weasley glared. He retorted, and they got into a heated argument that landed his father with a mark on his eye from a book and Mr. Weasley with a cut on his lip. Draco didn't pay close attention to the fight; he knew that his father could handle himself. Especially with a Weasley.

When Draco finally got onto the Hogwarts Express, he put his belongings in a compartment with the other Slytherins of his year.

Draco searched all around the express for Potter, but couldn't find him. He then ran into Granger and asked where he was. She glared a bit before answering, "I don't know where either of them are, Malfoy. Harry and Ron were right behind us and just didn't come through the barrier. I don't know what happened." She looked a bit glum, so Draco nodded and walked away.

Draco still didn't see Potter at the Sorting ceremony. As figured, "Weasley, Ginevra" was put into Gryffindor. Why would anyone even consider wanting to be a Gryffindor? Draco shivered a bit at the thought.

The next day, Draco saw Potter, and Weasley, at the Gryffindor table eating. He was glad that nothing bad happened to Potter. Weasley, he could care less.

And everyone remembered the incident. Well, Potter did, but he's like everyone to Draco.

The third week in, Slytherin held their Quidditch tryouts. Draco was going to try out for Seeker. He meant what he said last year.

Surprisingly, Draco got in. Fair and square. He was so happy, he had his father buy the whole Slytherin team the new Nimbus 2001. It's not like his father didn't have the money to pay for it.

A month later was the first Gryffindor-Slytherin match. Draco was a bit nervous to go up against Potter. He won every match he didn't almost get killed in last year. How was Draco suppose to compete?

Madam Hooch had the two captains shake hands before she started the match. She then let the Snitch out. It flittered in front of Draco and Potter's faces before flying away until it disappeared. When the Quaffle was released, the match started.

Draco flew up and kept his eyes away from Potter. He was actually looking for the Snitch, mind you.

Then he saw it across the pitch. He saw Potter already shot towards it and he followed him. He made his broom go as fast as it could, and he caught up with Potter. They both fought for the Snitch and, in the end, Potter won. He grinned as he held the Snitch up and the Gryffindor side howled with cheers as the Slytherin side hissed with anger. Draco hissed as well; he almost had the Snitch! Trust the damn Gryffindor to take it from under his nose.

The year went on uneventfully for Draco. The opening of the Chamber of Secrets worried him; it reminded him of the Dark Lord, and he's connected to Potter. And things always go bad when that happens.

"Mr. Malfoy will be able to duel Mr. Potter." Snape drawled. He pulled Draco from the crowd of other second-years and shoved him onto the platform where Potter was standing. Draco knew he couldn't do this. But Snape had insisted. Serpensortia would have to do, even if it was not allowed in duels. If Snape wasn't connected to his parents...

"Now," Lockhart started. "You know what to do, boys, I presume." Both Draco and Potter nodded. They bowed and then turned, taking three steps away from each other and then turned around. They both shouted spells.

"Serpensortia!" Draco yelled. A black snake flew out of his wand and landed on the ground gracefully. It hissed at Potter and then went towards other students. Potter hissed at it, what he was saying, Draco couldn't even imagine. All he knew was that this possibly "turned him on," so to speak for a twelve-year-old.

The snake stopped and turned around. Everyone was giving Potter weird looks and he seemed confused. It looked as if Potter didn't know he was speaking Parseltongue. Maybe no one told him, Draco thought.

Though he got in trouble with Filch last year, Draco still wandered around the castle at times. He was always thinking of Potter. Sometimes negatively, but mostly in a positive way. Does Potter still like him this year like he did the last? Will Potter ever consider being Draco's friend? Will Potter repeat his actions of last year, when he almost died? Draco dbouted that one. Potter doesnt get into near-death situations often, right?

But one night, Draco heard disembodied footsteps in front of him. He paused in his tracks, his heart rate increasing rapidly. Do those footsteps belong to Potter? He had to know.

"Potter..." Draco looked around apprehensively. "I know you're here. I can hear your footsteps, no matter how quiet you try to make them."

Draco heard a sigh of defeat before, in a shimmer of his Invisibility Cloak, Potter appeared. Draco almost smiled at him. Almost. It was like last year. But not, at the same time.

"You know, your father gave Ginny that diary." Potter said. He was making no sense to Draco. But it looked like he wanted to continue, so Draco stayed silent for the time being.

"And that diary bewitched her. She's in the Chamber of Secrets with the basilisk. Don't ask me how I know these things. I just do. Now, before Ron and I save her and I probably die via basilisk venom, I would like to do something. And it involves you."

Draco didn't care for the stupid explaination Potter was giving. He was going to, again, show that he liked Draco. And Draco liked that idea. But he just stared at Potter until he stepped closer to Draco.

When he was about a foot away, Potter lent in and pecked Draco's cheek again. He disappeared after another shimmer of his Invisibility Cloak. When he did, Draco smiled. He knew Potter had to like him. And he knew he liked Potter back. But what to do about it?

Potter was again in the infirmary the morning after he left Draco. Draco went to visit him and again mimicked Potter's action, not knowing exactly what to do or say.


End file.
